Floyd Wilson Dunham

On a hill far away

stood an old rugged Cross,

the emblem of suffering and shame.

And I love that old Cross

where the dearest and best

for a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged Cross,

till my trophies at last I lay down.

I will cling to the old rugged Cross

and exchange it someday

for a crown.